


At The End Of The Day

by jehane18, kissontheneck



Series: The Butterfly Effect of Nick Jonas Becoming Marius Pontmercy [1]
Category: Les Misérables RPF, Pop Music RPF
Genre: Age Difference, Blow Jobs, Crushes, Dressing Room Sex, Les Misérables 25th Anniversary, M/M, Masturbation, Muscles, Secret Crush, Theatre
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-06-02 18:40:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6577987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jehane18/pseuds/jehane18, https://archiveofourown.org/users/kissontheneck/pseuds/kissontheneck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Nick joins the 25th Anniversary cast of Les Misérables, it's like a dream come true. But the stress is mounting what with all the uber-talented cast members to live up to, plus Nick's growing interest in one of his fellow performers. Thankfully, someone notices and takes it upon himself to help Nick relax.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At The End Of The Day

**Author's Note:**

> At the time of the Les Mis Anniversary (2010), Nick Jonas was 18 years old. Ramin Karimloo was 31. While legal, we understand how that might be uncomfortable for some people, so we just want to make sure it's clear up top before you get too deep into this. Otherwise, we hope you enjoy our crazy little project. :)

The roar of applause is still ringing in Nick’s ears as he descends the stairs, his fingers pushing through the folds of the suffocating cravat he still hasn’t gotten used to. It’s minor compared to the other thing that has caused him loss of breath lately; something he didn’t know was possible until he’d taken on the role of Marius Pontmercy.

He pauses at the bottom of the stairs as a gaggle of grisettes rush by and duck into their dressing room, ruffles and clacking shoes following them along. A smile crosses Nick’s mouth because their sheer energy always amazes him.

Nick has barely taken a step before another group advances on him in the other direction, this time the raucous men who comprise the Amis of the ABC. Somehow they’ve already made it into their street clothes, another thing he’s falling behind on. Many of them have been on stage for years, so Nick’s pretty sure there’s some kind of disrobing secret that he hasn’t been let in on yet.

“Nicky!” Hadley calls to him cheerfully. “Nick, get dressed! Stage door, then drinks!”

A hand claps his shoulder and the men’s laughter floats around him in a cloud as they begin their ascent up the stairs.

Nick shakes his head in disbelief; it amazes him how much theater folks drink and still manage to make it to curtain call the next day. Of course, this is Sunday night – tomorrow is their day off. He’s slightly concerned about what that means for the night’s festivities.

He passes the women’s chatter-filled dressing room, the thought of his street clothes hastening his step. Taking the corner a little too quickly, he nearly trips over himself at the sight awaiting him in the men’s dressing room that he expected to be completely empty. On the other end of the room is an old, green upholstered couch; the sag in the middle is currently cradling the thing that has caused him so much anxiety lately, the surprise he never expected.

Ramin is draped lazily across the couch, his white shirt unbuttoned and black cravat hanging loose from either side of his neck. The wide blue white and red sash around his waist trickles to the floor like a revolutionary waterfall. His hair is mussed as if he’s been asleep for centuries.

 _Jesus_.

Ramin’s brown eyes flash up to Nick and he gives him a half smile.

“I heard a rumor about you,” he says in greeting.

Despite having loosened his collar, Nick suddenly can’t breathe. He hasn’t told anyone his secret.

Nick swallows hard and steps carefully into the room.

“Oh yeah?” he says as casually as he can muster. His voice cracks, so it’s clearly a failure.

“Yeah,” Ramin replies. His voice is soft, softer than anyone would ever guess after hearing the man sing with such power and command all night.

Nick tries to smile as he crosses to his place along the long wall of mirrors. But he doesn’t reach for his clothes or anything else; he merely stares into the mirror before him, unable to look Ramin in the face.

“A little bird told me you played Gavroche when you were small,” Ramin says easily. “How come you never told me that?”

“Didn’t I?” Nick asks, sneaking a look at Ramin in the mirror. Good God, did he have to tilt his head like that? Did he have to have a mischievous smirk on his lips?

“It’s adorable,” Ramin replies. “Hang on, I just want to close my eyes and imagine ten-year-old Nick Jonas bouncing around the barricades.”

To Nick’s surprise, he actually does, his dark eyelashes fanning gently on his cheeks.

Nick forces a chuckle as he pushes around some random objects on his counter space. As he changes Marius’ shirt to a V-necked t-shirt that will allow him some breathing space, something stirs in his chest that is both uncomfortable and thrilling at the same time. He glances back at Ramin and imagines confessing everything, about telling Ramin how his heart races every time Ramin smiles, how his fingers tingle when they sit together on the barricade – how each night the Marius version of _Red & Black_ is becoming less about Cosette and more about him.

“Nick.”

Nick jumps because Ramin is now at his shoulder. He was so caught up in his fantasy that he didn’t notice Ramin’s approach. He glances up at Ramin’s reflection over his shoulder, the harsh vanity lights casting angled shadows across those handsome features. Ramin places his hand on Nick’s shoulder, sending paralyzing warmth down Nick’s arm. Such a long, silent moment passes that Nick breaks his eye contact and reaches for a tissue to begin wiping makeup from his face.

“Nick,” Ramin says again, his fingers tightening on Nick’s elbow. “Nick, I know.”

Nick puts the tissue down; can’t keep the words, “Oh God,” from escaping his lips.

“Shh,” Ramin whispers against his ear. “You think no one sees the glances,” he adds. “Or how distracted you are? Well, I do.”

Nick’s eyes fall closed because he can’t handle watching Ramin staring at him like that in the mirror much longer. His knees buckle and he grips the edge of the counter to keep his balance.

Two fingers press the bottom of his chin, turning his head to the side until his cheek meets warm, soft lips … 

Ramin says, quietly, "It's okay. I get it. It's opening week nerves. You're doing so well, and you're gonna get so much stronger."  
  
Nick opens his eyes, blinks rapidly. "I'm... doing so well... ? On the show?"  
  
"Absolutely, on the show," says Ramin. He rubs his fingers gently down Nick's chin, presses another kiss to Nick's cheek as if it's the most natural thing in the world. "You just need to relax. Find your voice, let the notes come."  
  
Ramin puts one arm around Nick, presses his cheek to Nick's like a brother. Nick's cheek tingles with the memory of Ramin's somewhat-more-than-brotherly kiss.  
  
They stare at each other in the mirror. The mirror's ball lights burnish Ramin's cheekbones, his lush mouth; it makes his eyes luminous. It's so hard to look at him. Hugo described Enjolras as a young Apollo in full flight, and Nick can see every bit of that golden god in Ramin's classic face.  
  
"I _am_ kind of nervous," he says, thickly. "I hoped you guys wouldn't notice."  
  
"I know," says Ramin. He rubs Nick's arm soothingly. His curling hair falls across his brow; there's a certain glint in his eye. "Also, I think I know something else."  
  
Nick swallows, his throat entirely dry. He isn't sure if Ramin is teasing or serious. Either way, two can play at that game. "What's that?" he asks.  
  
"I think I know what it is you want," Ramin says, his voice dark, and puts his other arm across Nick's body in a way that is not at all brotherly. Nick watches as Ramin pushes up the hem of Nick's V-necked t-shirt, exposing the expanse of torso and bare skin to the mirror.    
  
"Am I right, Nick? You want this, don't you?" Ramin says into Nick's ear, gazing intently into Nick's reflected eyes. They watch as Ramin runs his hand over Nick's stomach muscles, nails grazing over hot flesh.  
  
"Oh my God, I don't believe you noticed," says Nick. His hands clench on the dressing table, his breath is coming fast, he can feel himself shaking, knows Ramin feels every tremor. He stares at his bared body as if it belongs to a hot, mysterious stranger.  
  
"I _did_ notice. Look at yourself, you're gorgeous," Ramin says, softly. His hand pushes the shirt up, palms over Nick's left nipple; Nick breathes in sharply.

"Do you see this?" Ramin asks, softly. “Do you want this?”

Nick knows he thinks too much, worries _way_ too much. He’s wanted this for so long, and yet he finds himself reaching for Ramin’s wrist, gripping hold tightly.

“Is that a no?” Ramin asks against his cheek. The question is both serious and luscious.

Nick swallows hard, very much aware of Ramin’s fingers still making micro-movements against his skin.

“It’s just… the guys are expecting us?” It comes out as a question for some reason, his overactive brain working hard to think of every way this could go terribly wrong. The guys could come back at any second. He’s very aware that the dressing room door is cracked open – he can still hear the distant hum of women’s laughter down the hall.

Ramin laughs and dips his nose into the spot between Nick’s neck and shoulder.

“I wouldn’t worry about those guys,” he replies, his lips grazing Nick’s skin with each word. “They won’t think anything if we don’t show up. They’ll also think everything, but they’ll never say a word.”

Nick can’t take his eyes off Ramin in the mirror, mesmerized by this man’s stark beauty. His fingers let go of Ramin’s wrist, which allows Ramin free rein again. It’s wonderful and strange to watch someone touch and kiss him the way Ramin is doing right now, to see his own body being adored.

“Now, are you going to answer my question?” Ramin asks at length. He noses Nick’s ear, his bewitching eyes are holding Nick captive in the mirror.

Nick slowly nods his head, because he can’t seem to find any more voice. A smile flickers on Ramin’s lips as his hand slips across Nick’s waist to push the button that is the only barrier left between them. A full-body shiver rushes through Nick, and Ramin responds by pulling Nick closer.

“It’s okay,” Ramin whispers. “I’ve got you.”

Nick feels himself sag in Ramin’s arms. This entire experience is like a metaphor for his time so far on this show. Anxious and fumbling, feeling like he’ll never catch up to all these amazing actors and singers. Then there’s Ramin, kind and supportive and gentle despite the extreme talent, never making him feel any the less for it. Maybe that’s why Nick likes him so much.

The button comes loose and Ramin reaches into Nick’s pants. Both men react viscerally – Nick gasps at the feel of someone else’s hand on his growing erection; Ramin’s forehead drops to Nick’s shoulder blade, his breath slipping down Nick’s bare back like a warm summer breeze.

Ramin leans into Nick's shoulder. His fingers trace the hard outline of Nick's cock, straining against the cotton of his briefs. "You _do_ want this."  
  
"Yeah," Nick says, unsteadily, his legs parting to give Ramin more access of their own accord. “Yeah, I do.”  
  
In the reflection, his eyes are wide, his pupils huge, shirt rucked up to his neck. Ramin's larger frame presses behind him, the white shirt hanging off that broad West End body. He watches Ramin slowly pull him free from his briefs, exposing him in the mirror. In Ramin's hand, the jutting length of his dick looks like it belongs to someone else.  
  
"Look at you," Ramin breathes again against his neck, his voice hushed with admiration. "How hot you are, how hard you are, how much you want this."  
  
Ramin starts to jack slowly, long, luxurious movements, rubbing his thumb against the shiny crown of Nick's cock. It feels indescribable, it looks even better, Nick's thighs spread wantonly against the dressing table, stomach muscles fluttering with quick breath, cock red and slick in Ramin's grasp; Ramin's eyes on him in the mirror, taking in every gorgeous detail.  
  
Nick rolls his head back. The words spill out of him in a helpless rush.  
  
"Yeah, I see it. Yeah, I want it. Yeah, I want you."

A low grunt rumbles from Ramin’s throat, his fingers tightening on Nick’s cock. Nick whimpers, the nape of his neck now hanging back against Ramin’s shoulder. It’s a struggle to remain upright, he’s so close to coming. His jaw hangs open as he makes little helpless noises, Ramin’s breathing harsh in his ear.

“Look at yourself, Nick,” Ramin says, holding Nick upright by grappling his free arm across Nick’s torso again. “I want you to look.”

Nick struggles to lift his head, to gaze into the mysterious looking glass that keeps showing him this alternate universe where things are vaguely familiar and yet completely different. He sees Ramin’s strong hand working his erection, is fascinated by the arm wrapped around his body. Watching each movement correspond with the rushes of sensation through him is like some otherworldly high.

His eyes flick upward to catch Ramin’s devilish ones, and in slow motion, he watches Ramin’s head tilt downward, his lips meeting Nick’s back, then the nape of his neck. Kisses evolve into little bites and Nick knows he can’t hold on for very much longer, though he wishes he could.

When he looks back to his cock in the mirror he’s almost surprised how it looks, flushed and straining in Ramin’s large palm. A jolt in his groin signals this is about to come to a screaming conclusion, and seeing Ramin’s fingers work his crown with each stroke puts him over the edge.

“I’m… I’m going to—”

“Shhh,” Ramin purrs, lips still pressed to Nick’s shoulder. “Let it go.”

“I want you to make me come,” Nick gasps. He’s so close now. So goddamn close. He watches Ramin’s hands in desperation, waiting for the last stroke to take him out.

A last kiss on the neck and Ramin props his chin on Nick’s shoulder, again gazing into the mirror at him.

“Are you watching?” Ramin asks. “Nick, are you watching? Come for me. Let’s watch this beautiful body explode.”

It’s like Ramin’s words are magic. Nick bucks forward as pleasure finally washes over him and his come spills over Ramin’s tight fingers. He chokes on his own breath, watching between half-lidded eyes as Ramin strokes through his earth-shattering orgasm.

Nick nearly collapses weak-kneed against the dressing table when he’s done. He doesn’t want to keep looking at his vulnerable body. Palms flat against the table, he tries to focus on the script pages scattered across it so that he can regain his composure. Ramin’s hand slips away from his cock, reaching for a tissue to clean up. His free hand strokes Nick’s side in the most soothing way possible.

“What did you think?” Ramin asks quietly, resting his cheek against Nick’s shoulder.

Looking up through his eyelashes, Nick catches the reflection of Ramin’s profile, soft and quiet. Something makes him push back into a standing position, facing Ramin.

“Inexplicable,” Nick replies coquettishly. “And also unfair.”

Ramin tilts his head curiously, but doesn’t have time to react further; Nick is tugging him closer by his waist sash. Nick’s softening erection brushes Ramin’s rock-hard one, eliciting moans from them both. Gingerly, Nick places his palms on Ramin’s chest, awestruck by the ripples and valleys across Ramin’s taut abdomen. His hands slide up to Ramin’s shoulders and under his white shirt, which falls away easily. The temptation to cross himself at the sight of Ramin’s god-like body is nearly overwhelming.

“What?” Ramin asks, though his smirk betrays his fake ignorance.

Nick drops his hands back to Ramin’s waist, tugging at the sash until it flutters away like a fallen French flag. Ramin’s raging cock is almost bursting through his trousers, so Nick figures it’s only fair to unleash it, and thumbs free the top button with ease. His eyes turn upwards to meet Ramin’s as he pushes Ramin back and starts to kiss his chest slowly in a downward trajectory.

"Where is this going?" Ramin asks, amused, and, as Nick presses a kiss to his muscular navel and the thick hair that trails down his groin, he puts out his hand to stop him. "Nick, you don't need to do this, I’m good, this was good."  
  
"I know," Nick says, getting to his knees, looking Ramin dead in the eye. He palms Ramin's dick, feeling the urgent blood thrumming under the hot flesh. "But I want to, and I think you want me to. Am I wrong?"  
  
Ramin's nostrils flare. He leans back against the long costuming table that runs down the center of the room. "No, not wrong," he says, cupping Nick's cheek as if it were precious.  
  
Nick gives Ramin a couple of firm, full-handed pulls, the way Nick himself likes it. Ramin's dick is huge, a darker red than Nick's own, and uncut, the foreskin sliding wetly down and then over the ruddy cock-head. Nick feels his mouth fill with water.  
  
Ramin makes a grunting noise as Nick drags his tongue up the large vein that twists around his hard, pulsing shaft, as he licks the ridge of the swollen crown and tastes the slickness of Ramin's precome beading at the slit. "So good," Ramin says, throatily.  
  
"Yeah?" Nick says, grinning up at him. Ramin nods, looking down, dark curls falling over his forehead like Apollo's leaf crown, eyes heavy-lidded and lewdly beautiful in a way that Enjolras' never would have been.  
  
Nick murmurs, "All the Amis want to do this for Enjolras, y'know, show him how much they love him," because it's true, those doomed boys would all have been on their knees in an instant if their leader had shown them the slightest flicker of interest. "And we all want to do this for _you_ ," he adds, because this is no less true.  
  
"Jesus, Nick," groans Ramin, and Nick takes him into his mouth.  
  
Ramin tastes bitter and salty, manly and strong. That gorgeous body above his is trembling with restraint; Ramin's hand in his hair is cradling gallantly, not pulling in the way Nick knows Ramin wants.  
  
Nick keeps looking up, watches as Ramin bites his lower lip, as he tries to stop himself from thrusting desperately into Nick's mouth. Ramin's gaze never leaves his face. Nick isn't able to watch the mirror any more in this position, but he can almost see his reflection in Ramin's hot, lust-clouded eyes.    
  
"I wish you could see what I see," Ramin says. "So hot, so good, so beautiful like this."  
  
Nick groans around Ramin's cock, his own spent dick twitches a little at Ramin's words.  
  
Ramin murmurs, "Enjolras would never allow himself to want anyone, to want Marius like this on his knees, his beloved friend," and he breaks off, choking, as Nick can't hold back any longer and swallows him to the root.

A strangled groan reaches Nick’s ears as the blunt head of Ramin’s cock pushes at the back of his throat. Nick belatedly realizes it came from him. His gag reflex makes Ramin twitch, but Nick manages to hold on. His daydreams about Ramin haven’t ever gone this far, yet now here he is, taking all of Ramin’s power into his mouth, squeezing his tongue against the smooth underside of Ramin’s cock.

“I wish you could see,” Ramin repeats under his breath, perhaps more to himself than anything. Nick presses his fingers into Ramin’s sculpted hips, his thumbs tracing the V-shaped valley that outlines them. Ramin’s dripping shaft moves easily between his swollen lips, and he sucks more hungrily than before.

“Goddamn it,” Ramin mutters in short, strained breaths. Nick can feel more of Ramin’s saltiness leak into the back of his throat.

“Nicky,” Ramin says, cupping the back of Nick’s head, his once-gentle fingers now digging into his scalp. “Nick, I can’t hold back. Don’t feel you have to—”

Though he’s nearly choking, Nick can’t imagine pulling away. His eyes flash up one last time to meet Ramin’s, which are filled with honest concern.

Nick sinks his fingertips deeper into Ramin’s hipbones, and the action seems to function like the flipping of a switch. The sound of release reverberates through Ramin’s tense, powerful body, by the shot of warm, thick come across the back of Nick’s mouth. He isn’t quite ready for the bitter taste, nor the amount, and he struggles for a second to keep from spitting up on the floor. He coughs and pulls back an inch in order to swallow it down. His lips linger on the end of Ramin’s dick, the want to suckle still present.

Strong hands grasp his shoulders and gently push him back. Ramin is gazing down at him, eyes sleepy and cheeks flushed. He cups Nick’s chin, caressing a moment before pulling him back to his feet.

“Come here,” he says quietly. “Let me see that beautiful mouth.”

Nick quickly wipes his lips with the back of his hand, suddenly desperate not to look like a fool. Ramin’s palm rests against his jaw, his thumb tracing his mouth.

“Who knew you could take all that,” Ramin mutters, half-smiling. His hand moves to the back of Nick’s head, caressing his neck.

Being two inches from Ramin’s face is a lot different than being ten inches from a reflection of his face, and all at once Nick feels the fear of his new god weaken every muscle. Tingling strikes the corners of his eyes, and he swears he will quit this show if even a drop escapes his tear ducts.

Ramin presses his mouth against Nick’s. Nick can hardly bear it, and finds himself letting his jaw go slack as Ramin kisses him gently from chin to ear. He presses his face into Ramin’s neck, relieved to turn his wet eyes away from Ramin’s intimidating gaze.

“Are you okay?” Ramin asks at length.

Nick manages to silently nod, his eyelashes sticking to Ramin’s skin.

“Don’t worry about it,” Ramin whispers knowingly, squeezing Nick’s chest. “I’m here.”

And it seems that’s all Nick needs to know.

 


End file.
